


Every Drop of Sweat has a Price

by hollow_echos



Category: A Knight's Tale (2001)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 02:03:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollow_echos/pseuds/hollow_echos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will's story took center stage, she knew this. That doesn't mean she stopped having a life of her own. Will had his adventure, his story was told. Now it's Kate's turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Drop of Sweat has a Price

**Author's Note:**

  * For [que_sera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/que_sera/gifts).



**Each Drop of Sweat has a Price**

 

Each drop of her sweat has a price; she had told Will exactly that when she first met him. She was born a woman, expected to do fine needlepoint for a future husband, run a household, and bear children like any good broodmare. Kate had looked down that well-paved road, the one she had been ushered toward for her early life, and balked at the notion.

 

The crooked path that wove to the left, through a thicket so dense at times you could hardly differentiate between forest and road, that was where she chose to go. She had been a laughing stock, the whelp that no farrier or blacksmith in their right mind would apprentice. She had taken all of that: the refusals and mockery, rejection and jokes, and used them as the fuel for her fire. It was the heat in her forge that shaped the world to her purpose.

 

She hadn’t had an easy way of things; she’d fought for each scrap, for each lesson in metal working, and learned more besides through experimentation in a lonely forge under cover of darkness when no prying eyes would judge her for the fact that she was a woman. When she told Will each drop of sweat had a price, she meant it.

 

Life had given her no free hand outs and she would collect the fees for her services that she was due.

 

Why did she take Will’s armor commission, then, with no assurance of payment, you ask? Perhaps she had found her faith in a higher Power (not likely) or was willing to gamble on a man named Will. Maybe a man wearing her prototype armor in the jousting arena would play out as the fairytale ending she had never had and have the nobles flocking to her stall.

 

Or perhaps she had a thing for the underdog. She took a look at his hodgepodge support staff, his mutt of a horse, and armor that looked like it had seen far better days (or centuries) and she knew he was as out of place in this world of flippantry and noble’s sport as she was an oddity within her craft. It was enough for her take a chance.

 

****

 

It wasn’t a fairytale, all pomp and circumstance and success stories. They faced rivals and enemies at every turn. Jealous nobles who knew a stranger in their midst even if they couldn’t put words to exactly what struck them as _off_ about Will. Maybe it was the way his gaze was caught by peasants living in squalor. He lacked the nonchalance of the noble born, their ability to gorge themselves on a meal in a single evening that might’ve fed a village for a year.

 

She did her part in the farce. She taught him to dance like the noble born (indeed, in another lifetime, she had belonged that class herself before casting down that mantle for a life of substance). She helped him court a lady, and contributed to him his love sonnets and grand gestures of his undying adoration for Lady Jocelyn.

 

In private, it made her eyes roll. For Will, of course, it was everything. From afar, it was a love story worth every bit of effort they had all poured into it.

 

It was Will’s story, not hers though, and she had far more substantial things to concern herself with in a lifetime. As Will made his way off to the dance in an outfit sewn from stolen drapes, she wandered through the town, an odd stillness about the grounds with most families tucked away in their homes.

 

She had always been a wanderer by nature, journeying to whatever places her feet carried her.  There was a cart in the street ahead, uncharacteristically out of place for the fact that it was blocking the way. Kate was a bit surprised the city guard hadn’t come by to harass the wagon owner just yet.

 

One of the horses was harnessed to the wagon, the other off to the side, reins held by a boy that didn’t yet stand as tall as the draft horse’s knee. The man was running a hand through his hair, a resigned sigh rising into the night.

 

They didn’t look the wrong sort of company to keep, so she approached. “Is everything alright here, gentlemen?”

 

The man shook his head. “Our trade caravan is supposed to leave in less than an hour and my horse has thrown a shoe. If we are left behind, it’ll be weeks before we can find another group to travel with.”

 

She cocked her head, eying the horse with a practiced eye. The left front hoof rode lower on the ground than its counterpart. “What wares do you deal in?”

 

“Stories, the likes of which you’ve never heard and will never hear again upon our departure,” the man replied in a suddenly upbeat tone. How many times had he given the same sales pitch, the same spiel, before, she wondered.

 

She sighed. There wasn’t much monetary value to be found in stories.

 

“I can help.”

 

The man gave a sad smile. “We appreciate the offer of help, we truly do, but what can a wo-“

 

She narrowed her eyes, cutting him off. “Don’t you dare say what you are thinking or I’ll turn on my heel right here and now and be on my way. I’m a farrier just the same as any other one you’d meet. And I’m certainly the only you’re to find sober enough to work at this hour.”

 

He raised his hands in defense as he changed his tune. “No offense meant. What I was going to say is just what a fine lass you are for offering your assistance. What do you need us to do?”

 

“Meet me at the parade grounds. I have a stall there; you’ll find it by the smoke rising from the forge. I’ll need more firewood, lots of it if we’re to raise a fire hot enough for the job. And bring the horse that I’m to shoe.”

 

It was true, there was no money she’d make for her labors this night, indeed she’d use steel from her own stock to forge the shoe. But the man was honest enough, he told stories as she worked, the likes of which she’d never experienced before and likely never would again, just as he had claimed it was to be. She’d had entertainment as she worked and a friendship forged between the strikes of her hammer. For her, on that night, that was plenty payment enough.

 

****

She had expected Will to do alright in the joust, to give her an opportunity to showcase her work and get the word out of her new armor designs. She figured he’d give her a ride as far as Paris as payment for the armor she’d forged and they’d part ways from there.

 

She’d been wrong. He’d done better than they’d ever expected. They travelled tournament to tournament. He always placed, they always profited. His farce still hadn’t been discovered. Perhaps fairytale endings did exist in this seemingly dark world.  

 

It was that success that had her working by fire glow late that night to repair a dent in his armor wrought by the blunted end of a jousting lance. The quarter finals were tomorrow and she took her job seriously. It was her steel, her armor, which stood between Will and a killing blow.

 

She didn’t mind the late hours, it was quiet, save for the ring of steel on steel. It gave her time to think. Which is why when a cloaked figure ducked into her stall she dropped her hammer, startled.

 

The man bent down to pick it up, holding it out toward her.

 

He didn’t have to drop his hood; she saw the royal crest on the gold rings he wore. She didn’t dare take the hammer. She dropped to her knee, kneeling before royalty as was law.

 

She felt his gaze on her, Prince Edward, the Black Prince of Wales and future king of England. “Arise, Lady Kate. I value Will as a friend for his refusal to bend a knee to archaic ritual. I expect the same level of respect from his associates.”

 

She slowly rose to her feet, unsure of what protocol to abide by. “I’m not a lady,” she muttered, low under her breath.

 

He laughed. “There’s the trademark spunk I love about you guys. And I suppose you aren’t much different than Will and I in that regard. It’s not Lady Kate. It was Lady Wellington, was it not?”

 

She frowned, taking the hammer from his loose grip and setting it back on her anvil. “In a different lifetime, perhaps it might’ve been. I abandoned that name long ago. It’s Kate, blacksmith or farris if you must use a title.”

 

 

The prince smiled. “Indeed, it’s your smithy skills I’ve come to discuss. I’ve seen your work. It’s a marvel, a masterpiece. Feather light but still retaining the strength required in battle.”

 

“It’s how you heat the steel that does it.”

 

“I won’t claim technical expertise where I have none. I am not a blacksmith, but I know armor. And I know that I want yours on every knight in our country.”

 

It was her turn to laugh. “Are you propositioning me?”

 

“I’m offering you a job with the resources you deserve. Apprentices, assistants, more business than you could do in a lifetime. The kingdom could use you.”

 

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear that had snuck loose of its tie at the base of her neck as she worked. “I thank you for your offer. If you had found me six months ago, I’d have leapt at the chance to just see the inside of one of your royal forges let alone work in one. But I have a job…My job is to keep Will safe. It’s not a duty I take lightly.”

 

The smile faded from his face, but there was understanding in his eyes. “He’s a rare one, Will. He doesn’t demand the respect of his men and women simply for his station. And yet he still holds it. I at least thank you for your time, and will let you get back to your work. I know William is first up in the morning rounds.”

 

She wanted to say more. But her mind couldn’t form the words. “Thank you, Prince Edward. I bid you success in this tournament as well.”

 

He raised the hood on his cloak, the guards that had stopped short of her stall fell into rank around him, and they departed.

 

She was a fool perhaps, but her word was her bond, and she had promised to see Will through until he had no further need of her services. She was a fool for turning down the offer, but at least she was an honest one. She pulled the red hot breast piece from the fire, took her hammer in a well calloused hand, and returned to work.

 

****

 

The prince had been right. Will didn’t demand their blind loyalty without basis. He led by example and let other people judge his worth for himself. Which is why when they put him in the stocks and an angry mob comprised of the very people who should’ve stood behind him, the peasants who dreamed of a better life, formed, she and the others stood between him and the throngs of accusing people in a protective arc. They gripped weapons in white knuckled fists, nervous, perhaps, but holding their ground none-the-less.

 

Kate had assumed they were done at that point, the fairy-tale plot burned to ash and leaving the cold reality in its stead, until Prince William had stepped in and knighted him. Sir William. It still sounded wrong rolling off the tongue, but she accepted this development as she had every other time along this adventure. She didn’t know where they went after a successful world championship, but she knew wherever Will led, she’d follow, hammer and anvil in tow.

 

She was loading her equipment into the wagon when Prince Edward appeared in her stall once more. She knew enough of the man to avoid the instinct to bow. The man deserved that much for all they had done for them.

 

“So that’s that then?” he asked. “You guys are packing up and shipping out?”

 

She shrugged, dropping some of her smithy equipment into the back of the cart. “I don’t pick the destinations; I pack and unpack at the word of William.”

 

He raised an eyebrow. “And if your future king demanded otherwise?” He asked, leaning up against a nearby post.

 

“I’d call him a fool, for we’ve already had this conversation once,” she retorted, immediately regretting her sharp tongue. He may be a friend to them, but he was still royalty and demanding of certain social courtesies. “I’m so sorry, I spoke out of turn-“

 

“I would rather you speak your mind than silver-edged lies to preserve my dignity. As for Sir William, he is a knight now. There are many advantages of such a title, but there are also responsibilities. He will train in my army and be expected to spend a certain number of months in each year in service to the kingdom. I was thinking of calling him back to London to train with me. I could use a man like him at my side.”

 

“And as for us? You’re just going to rip him out of our lives and leave us to our own devices?” she snapped. Perhaps he wasn’t so different than the entitled nobility after all, barking orders and running amok without a concern for anyone other than themselves.

 

“Of course you’d be welcome, Kate. I offered you the position once and I’ll do it again. I want you as a royal armor smith. Your skills would be wasted anywhere else,” he replied calmly.

 

She sighed. “It wasn’t for myself that I said no last time, it was for Will’s. You make this decree, demand his service in London, and you’ll break his spirit. He lives for the joust, for the tournament, for trying his skills against the best in the country.

“And I wouldn’t change that for the world; he will train in the winters with me, and travel in the summers during the tournament season as he has this year. You’d have leave to follow him. He needs you, I know that.”

 

She eyed him with a cautious gaze, measuring her options. There had to be something she was missing here, the offer was too good, things were never just handed to her. “I can’t think of any reasons to say no.”

 

He laughed. “Then say yes.”

 

And so she did. Kate Wellington. Blacksmith, farris, and never a lady. Recently-named royal armorer. Perhaps she’d make out alright in this world just yet.

 

-The End-

 


End file.
